In Between
by S.Thyme
Summary: As the title hints, a series of quirky/irreverent one shots between Cullen scenes. I have no idea if these are going to be in any particular order.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Bioware owns all.

A/N: First time posting anything in well over a year and this struck me by surprise. I had to get it out of my head, but in writing it, my brain was about as functional as pudding and my imagination moved faster than I could type, resulting in the congealed mess presented proudly. Hopefully it's at least an entertaining read.

1.

It was cold, blisteringly cold, and she had struggled to keep her arrows on target even between the frigid gusts of wind as they scaled the mountainside. It had been a relief to make it to the forward base despite the leaderless chaos, a brief relief though it was. She spoke little, her voice coming out as a hoarse croak, sounding more annoyed than she had intended, but it mattered not. The throbbing ache in her hand had set her nerves aflame, an odd sensation even as she fought against the growing numbness threatening her fingertips. Maker's balls it was cold!

They pressed forward, charging with the remaining soldiers and into the valley. The drifting snow stung her cheeks and the wind pulled at her arrows, but her mark stayed true. As the last rift closed she turned and saw him, imposing in his heavy armor and a stern look of frustration upon his face. He shared words with the Seeker, but Sybilla's eyes were drawn to his fur-lined overcoat. Andraste's knicker weasels that thing looked warm, but before she could contemplate stripping the heavily armed man of his clothing, the Seeker pulled her back to her duty once again.

Sybilla sighed and blew on her hands to warm them. _Well, shit_.

The valley was nothing like she remembered it. Where once stood Haven's sturdy Chantry and rugged outbuildings, a smoldering crater remained. Spires of rock jutted out of the scorched earth, streaked eerily with lyrium. The remains of those at the conclave were contorted, frozen in terror as the fires dwindled down around their bodies, their charred skulls a macabre mockery of a smile.

The group passed them by wordlessly, the ground crunching beneath their feet. Despite the Seeker's impassioned description, it was not a scene Sybilla expected, nor one she would ever like to lay eyes on again. She blew on her hands once more, fighting off a new wave of cold, and entered the remains of the Chantry proper.

Much as the outside, the crater's innards were streaked with green, the shadows shifting wildly from the light of the rift above. It was massive and an impossible sense of dread filled her. The mark would swallow her whole before that thing was closed.

She turned as the Seeker swept passed her, following as she clambered down the edges of the crater, the rift directly above them. Solas attempted a few words of encouragement, the Seeker attempted to plan, but like Varric, Sybilla set her face in a frustrated grimace and readied her bow. If this worked, the first thing she was doing was diving into a bed of furs next to a roaring fire with a bottle of whiskey and staying there for a month.

o O o

"Andraste's Ass, Varric. The Inquisition?" Sybilla let loose with another arrow, frowning slightly as it missed the bull's eye. That damn dwarf still had a lead on her.

"The war between the mages and Templars is getting stale. We could always use a third party to stir the pot."

Sybilla shifted her weight slightly, sighted, and let out a low breath. The air hissed beside her ear followed by a solid _thud_. Another miss. _Damn it_. "Yes, because nothing says Laudable Authority like the remains of a fiery peace summit."

"I just count myself lucky not to be important enough to have been there." Varric shrugged nonchalantly and shouldered his crossbow. He loosed a bolt without a second thought, a crooked smile lighting his face. "That's two, Freckles."

Sybilla let out a frustrated sigh, nocking yet another arrow. She could hear Varric humming a familiar tune, but ignored him, her concentration on the target. She barely heard the snow crunch underfoot as someone approached, and startled by the sudden query, her shot went wide. A pitiful squeal echoed through the underbrush as her wild shot found a home.

"I'm sorry," Cullen's smooth baritone did nothing ease her sudden chagrin. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but Cassandra has been looking for you."

Varric cackled in the background. "Did you just kill a nug?"

Sybilla had passed time these past few days visiting with the various advisors, feeling out the people of Haven, but none had been so delightfully fun to torment as their dear commander. She knew that her jealousy of his warm overcoat upon their initial meeting was incredibly irrational, but given the lack of entertainment, she improvised by constantly asking him wildly inappropriate questions with an impossibly innocent face. Having the tables turned on her was rather unpleasant. Whether he meant to or not was irrelevant.

Sybilla gathered was nobility she could muster and met the Cullen's gaze. "Commander, you just cost me three rounds of dwarven ale."

He held up his hands in a mockery of defense. "I'm just the messenger."

She sniffed, an irritating gesture she'd seen on more than one Marcher noble. "Well then you can tell the Lady Seeker that I will be along shortly. But first, I have a nug to fetch."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So I might have had a bit too much fun with the fluffiness on this one... A special thank you to Sesh who helped me brainstorm a few bad ideas. Good times.

2.

_No vows of chastity_.

Granted the question had been forward, even for her, but he had answered her respectfully, his cheeks coloring ever so slightly as she held his gaze. She had already known the answer, but upending the commander's poised disposition had the most delicious results. His eyes had crinkled slightly as he attempted unsuccessfully to hide his embarrassment. Most men in his position would have brushed her off or declared the grandeur of their virility, but not him. He maintained his professionalism and consideration of her while still giving her only a taste of her goal.

Sybilla sighed as she leaned on the war table as she attempted to study the spread of their forces. He was a former Templar and their discipline was legendary, but damned if she wasn't intrigued by that. The fact that the commander was easy on the eyes wasn't lost on her either, but as she toyed with the idea of approaching him again, she felt a familiar presence by her side.

"Oh, I didn't think to find you in here, Herald." His smooth baritone washed over her like a warm breeze, the sensation quickly replaced with surprise of her own.

"Oh," she stuttered clumsily. "I was just working through the logistics for our foray into the Fallow Mire. Quartermaster Threnn informed me that the scout's supplies are already en route and they should be able to set up the forward base earlier than first thought. I just need to fletch a few more arrows first and we'll be on our way."

"So soon - I mean, that's good." Cullen coughed softly into his gloved hand. "The sooner we're able to get to our men the better."

"Agreed." She held his eyes a moment longer before turning back to the map as it seemed to grow suddenly warm in the room.

"Our forces in the Hinterlands are reporting fewer skirmishes every week. Refugees are fed and protected. There is still the occasional engagement with our soldiers, as is to be expected, but you were instrumental in calming the region, Herald."

"I'm not the Herald." She met his eyes once more, her tone a bit more strained than she intended. "I'm just Sybilla. And there were many who were instrumental in taming the Hinterlands – well, as tamed as it can get, I suppose."

He chuckled at that and joined her at the war table. "You're modesty will serve you well."

"Modesty," she balked. "I don't think I've ever been accused of that, Commander."

"A compliment then." The commander glanced up and caught her gaze again. "And it's Cullen."

o O o

The ground crunched beneath her feet as Sybilla dismounted, giving her horse a solid pat on his flank before handing him off to the stable hand. Andraste's tits but she reeked of horse. And sweat. And more horse. The ride from Therinfal Redoubt had been long and taxing, the weather holding the majority of the way, but Sybilla wasn't sure that was a boon at all. A little rain might have been nice, maybe done a little something for the smell. If anything, at least it would have been worth the dismal cloud cover that hung heavy over them the last leg of their return trek. No such luck, however, but instead of contemplating her mild interest in Ferelden weather patterns, she attempted to analyze the latest mission's events, idly staring as the stable hand brushed down her horse.

"You've returned."

Sybilla froze. How had she not heard Cullen's approach? "Yes, we've just arrived."

"Ah. And the mission was successful?"

"Yes." _And I also smell of feet and old livestock._ "I'll have the report written up shortly, but the remains of the Templar order have joined under our banner."

"The remains? I'm not sure I –"

"There were complications." Sybilla frowned, brows creasing slightly as she recalled stash of red lyrium and corrupted Order's betrayal. "In short, they were left leaderless and without purpose. Conscripting them into the Inquisition gave them both."

"You conscripted them! What –"

She held up her hand to forestall further protest. She wasn't in the mood to argue with him. Perhaps the potency of her stench would make him rethink his line of questioning. "I thought of you when I offered them the choice."

He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it with a snap, contemplating her instead.

"Who better to command a group of former Templars betrayed by their commanders, disenchanted with an order that no longer holds to its ideals?" Sybilla paused as she studied his reaction, the way his brows furrowed, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the muscle in his nicely defined jaw twitched. Maker, had he always been standing so close? "They chose the Inquisition as you did."

He nodded slowly, his frown deepening as if the reality of the Templar Order's dissolution a left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I see. Thank you."

Sybilla studied him only a moment longer before feeling intrusive, turning back to idly watch her horse once more. Surprise struck her when Cullen shifted alongside her, turning his gaze to the horse as well who currently had his head in a feed bag. It was an odd, but not unpleasant feeling, to relax against the fencing as the horse munched on his oats. Companionable even.

"He seems a fine steed."

"Who, Stumpy?" Sybilla snorted a laugh. She hated horses, or rather their smell, and damn it all if that stupid horse didn't prance about like the king of the castle. The least she could do was give him the most ridiculous name she could think of. That'll teach him to try and buck her off. It had certainly worked so far.

"Stumpy?" Cullen shot her a sideways glance. "Do I want to know?"

Sybilla shrugged. "It was either that or Bob. Percy was on the short list as well."

"Why not just go all the way and call him Fluffy?"

"Now you've gone and done it, Cullen." A wicked grin curled her lips. "I'll be sure to send Threnn a requisition for the new horse blankets to be embroidered with Fluffy's magnificent new moniker."

A sigh escaped his lips and he shook his head in resignation. "I live to serve, Sybilla."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the delayed posting. Life happened, then midterms, then more life. How dare reality get in the way of Cullen-fic!

3.

Holy pigeon crap it was cold!

The wind whipped the hair from under her hood and into her eyes as Sybilla struggled up the hillside, her legs sinking deeper and deeper into the snow. She ached – her whole body ached and fatigue was starting to settle in, but Sybilla clung to the pain. In this weather, pain was welcome. It was the growing numbness in her toes and fingers she worried about.

Another howl sounded in the distance and Sybilla glanced back into the darkness, her view obscured by heavy snowfall. They were closer now and if she didn't find the survivors soon, those wolves would have an easy meal at her expense. She paused for only a moment more before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

She had spotted another campsite in the distance, but held out hope that it wouldn't be cold like the others. Snow crunched beneath her as she sank into another crusty bank, stumbling into the drift. The campsite was just beyond her reach, but it was enough to see the tiny embers left glowing in the darkness, to imagine she felt the heat on her face instead of her damp hood. She was close. She had to keep going. She be damned if those wolves picked her off without even a fight.

Picking herself out of the snow, Sybilla trudged onward, her steps jerky and awkward, her will ebbing. It was only when she crested the rise that she saw the fires in the distance. Her knees gave out beneath her and she collapsed heavily into the snow. Shouting could barely be heard over the wind and in the distance she saw figures approaching. Sybilla couldn't help but smile tiredly as they approached.

"Maker's breath, you made it!" Cullen's voice was strained, breathless. Leliana and Cassandra followed on his heels, concern on their faces.

He took one look at her and picked her up, shedding his overcoat and bundling her against him in one smooth movement. He was warm against her skin and she ignored the hardness of his cuirass, welcoming the pain instead. She was alive. And she had made it. The realization that she had finally got into the commander's overcoat did not escape her before falling into a light doze.

She was awakened instantly as they returned to camp. Cullen burst into the command tent and set her down by a roaring fire while Leliana and Cassandra arrived with armfuls of blankets. Josephine followed in short order with a steaming mug and tut-tutted at Sybilla when she reached for it.

"We must get you out of those wet clothes first." Her voice was stern and before Sybilla could argue, had she the energy, Josephine set upon her like a mother hen. Before she knew it, Sybilla was as naked as the day she was born and then bundled inside an absurd amount of blankets, a mug of hot cider in her stiff fingers.

Sybilla sighed at the attention, too tired to be annoyed, yet glad for the assistance. It had been a long evening and an even longer night. All she wanted was to sip her cider, maybe add a bit of whiskey, and warm up. However, she couldn't help but notice that Cullen was still in the tent and chatting with Cassandra, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. It seemed he was as surprised by Josephine's stripping intervention as Sybilla was and had turned his back for privacy a bit too late. Sybilla was too tired to care what he saw, but she wasn't too tired to admire the view. The commander should turn his back more often.

o O o

The door creaked loudly as Sybilla pushed against it, grumbling about the dilapidated state of Skyhold despite its sturdy walls. She stumbled unceremoniously into his office, the very model of organized chaos. Cullen was bent over his desk, shuffling through his papers, but his attention turned immediately to her and Sybilla felt her cheeks heat.

"Your door – the hinges could use some oil."

"Making the rounds, I see?" Cullen's lip curled into a slight grin.

"One of my many newfound duties." Sybilla agreed, absently taking in the scene around her. An enormous oaken desk dominated the room, topped with paperwork, missives, and candles, its filigreed border chipped and flaking. Two large bookcases lined the far war, absent the thin layer of dust that coated the floor, heavy with the same books and scrolls that also rested on the room's singular chair. It was a practical arrangement, she would give him that. However, it was the incredibly tall and inconveniently placed ladder which drew her attention.

Cullen shuffled his papers again and watched her from the corner of his eye as Sybilla moved around the room. She peered up the ladder and into the rays of sunshine and foliage above.

"You're making use of the room above? Storage perhaps? Your personal armory? An herb garden?"

He set his papers aside and grunted in response. "My quarters."

She balked at that. "You can't be serious."

He simply nodded in response.

"What? No." This would not do at all. An odd rush of indignation filled her. The commander of her armies would not reside in such squalor. She was climbing up the ladder and in his newly established quarters before Cullen could voice any disapproval.

Once more she surveyed the scene around her, shaking her head at the gaping hole in the ceiling, a creeping vine growing into the crumbling stonework. She heard the telltale sign of the commander and his heavy footfalls as he made his way up the ladder after her.

"You can't be serious," she stated again.

Cullen righted himself beside her and followed her gaze into the blue sky above. "I find it rather calming. And the view is spectacular."

Sybilla bit her lip at the last. She knew he was baiting her. And he was indeed correct. The view from his quarters into the valley below was quite lovely, but the sticking point remained. "You do realize that it snows in the mountains, Cullen."

"Of course, Sybilla, but not all of us have grand fireplaces in our quarters and grand artistry decorating the ceiling above."

Sybilla hid a smile at his remark, doing her best to maintain a serious façade. "So you've been in my quarters, have you Cullen?"

"Well, I –" he mumbled inaudibly under his breath. "I saw the plans that Josephine had drawn up."

"Mm-hmm." A smile lit her face as she watched, fascinated by the rising color in his cheeks.

"I happen to like the creeping vine. I think it adds ambience."

"It will destroy the stonework."

"Perhaps," he shot a glance toward her, catching her amused gaze. "But not everything in my quarters is that fragile."

It was Sybilla's turn to flush, the warmth on her face pooling in other, less visible parts of her body. Perhaps her commander was not as puritanical as he pretended to be. A wild flood of abandon surged through her veins and she took a step toward him, her breath hot against his neck as she whispered: "I look forward to finding out."


End file.
